


In The Land of Gods, Tricksters and Ghosts

by CircusBones



Series: The Endless [3]
Category: American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Captain America (Movies), Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Sandman (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Female Friendship, Friendship, Gods, Healing, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Non-Explicit Mentions of Rape, PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircusBones/pseuds/CircusBones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bring the gods, line 'em up one by one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Land of Gods, Tricksters and Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> WOO hopefully this goes well :D

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There's a rise, there's a fall  
Where the light hits the wall  
Spins a...

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The woods are dark and deep.

“Why are you doing this?” She whispers at his shoulder, the slightly-passed-middle-aged man adjusting his hat, and the tie of his pale grey suit as he surveys the trees. “They're doing so well...”

“Why are you talking to me?” Mr. Wednesday asks of Death, turning to look her full in her pale face. She presses her black lips together, before giving him a tight smile. Mr. Wednesday smiles back, clucking his tongue and shaking his head. “Low-Key has taken on a completely different face, Endless.” Death's expression flickers for a moment, a decade, a beating of a black wing over both of their heads. The ravens are molting, she notes.

“That...does not often happen, not so quickly, not completely.” The ageless entity notes, and the personification of a Norse god nods.

“Almost never. Yet the real deal has shown his face in the world, and thus, new followers rise.”

“Near-unprecedented,” Death whispers. Mr. Wednesday chuckles, however, drawing her gaze.

“Near,” His grey eyes narrow, “You know worlds far beyond this one, lass. It's happened those places as well, hasn't it? When the folk of a world reach a certain...level, with their industry, their technologies...” 

“...The gods come to take a look, yes,” Death admits, sighing, looking back on the dense forest. It was quite the ancient, half-rotting swath of land, she thought. The man at her side spread his hands wide, as if encompassing all the wood, all the world, the ravens on his shoulder crawing.

“What other of my old companions will be coming back, and in what manner?” Mr. Wednesday asks her. “You ask me why I am doing this? I only want to see.”

“And yet I heard you, and your doings.” Death reminds him, as a slim, stately figure approaches them from the trees. A lovely woman of middle years, her blonde hair in soft waves, touched with grey. As she draws closer, Death can make out the small pendant resting at her neck, over a tailored collared shirt. A Thor's Hammer. “Your plans could mean many human deaths, Odin.”

“I'm only -one- Odin,” Mr. Wednesday smirks, tugging his bride close to his side, “And we shall see.”

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Therapy's been good, it really has been. Talking to someone neutral has helped Darcy to work through certain things. She's feels like...it's hard to describe. Like maybe she should be not as okay with physical intimacy, with friendship, with being near people, near weapons. But she is, basically, and her SHIELD therapist tells her that, given the nature of what was done to her, this isn't so strange. Tangible things aren't a difficulty. Things held, felt. It was her mind that was violated before her body, and Darcy distantly wonders how, even someone versed in what all can happen when you work for SHIELD, can become so familiar with possession and the very specific PTSD it leaves behind.

But he's right. Steve is tangible, solid and good, even when he's low. Jane is tangible, was after only a little while of not trusting herself. But Darcy Lewis still jolts awake in the darkness, many nights a week. She still pushes her boyfriend away at very, extremely specific times, when certain words are said, carelessly for him, carrying metric fucktons of weight for her. Tangible, touchable things are okay. The things further in are her battlefield. 

And Thor. Her beloved Big Guy. The nicest lug ever. And yet, he'll come back beaming from a visit to Asgard some days, going on about the progress his brother is making, and it grates like sandpaper against her brain, against her raw nerves. 

It takes weeks after the last fight against Loki, before she blurts it out from her seat across from Doctor Jerome, fist pummeling into the armrests. “WHY?!” It tears out of her, after months of keeping it in, “...I mean I know why, we had to wipe his slate clean for the safety of everyone, but.” A hand rakes through her hair, a bitter taste twisting her mouth, her face, the gem on her finger flashing, “...Why does HE get to forget everything, while I'll live with it forever, huh?” 

“..I wish I could tell you,” He doctor answers, honestly, and Darcy thinks that hey, at least it's progress.

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End file.
